


Even Angels Pray - Especially Angels

by Angels_Dineing_At_The_Ritz



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley's Fall (Good Omens), Fluff and Angst, God has she/her pronouns, God is forgiving, M/M, Post-Canon, References to Canon, References to God(s), References to Sex, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Ultimatums, angst with happy ending, aziraphale is male, crowley is male, god is female-ish, loving relationship, references to the series good omens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:35:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25709833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angels_Dineing_At_The_Ritz/pseuds/Angels_Dineing_At_The_Ritz
Summary: AU wherein God finally speaks to Aziraphale when he continues to pray for Crowley. God answers his prayers - finally, and offers to remake Crowley as if his Fall never happened, because she loves them. With that comes complications. Changing Crowley might change his feelings for Aziraphale and does he really want that?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 33





	Even Angels Pray - Especially Angels

**Author's Note:**

> I AM NOT a religious person. I went to church and bible school as a kid and I'm really not up on how things went down, as it were, so if you're any kind of devote Christian that expects this fic to be correct in it's order of how things were depicted in the Bible, you'll be sorely disappointed. I'm making it up as I go and going off what I remember from Sunday school, (which isn't much) and what I've learned from a vast compilation of internet searches when I really get stuck. This is creative writing, not philosophy or fact. Please bear that in mind and don't leave me comments that tell me I got it wrong. I know I did!

Even Angels pray. 

Especially Angels, in fact. 

Still having a direct line to God, Herself, though he would never abuse that privilege, Aziraphale drops to his knees every night and every morning and asks her to help him in doing the right thing.

 _Bless those that need it most. Forgive the sinners, as there are so many, guide those that have pain and help them to see Her_ _light, bless all the humans and the animals of Earth and bring them what they need when they need it._

He also, each time, prays for one particular person. Not a person, really, but someone he loves deeply, above all others here on Earth with him. He prays for him knowing that God probably by that time turns a deaf ear to him not willing to forgive an Angel that has fallen, that defied Her, that went against Her divinity. 

Still, he prays for him. 

"Almighty, as always, I ask that you might forgive the Demon, Crowley." he begins each time. Where his head is bowed into clasped hands before him, he then raises his eyes to the ceiling of his bookshop, or wherever he may be in the last several thousand years since he began asking for this. His eyes often fill with unshed tears when he asks for this as he looks up to Her heavens. 

"He... really isn't so awful. Mischievous, is all." he huffs in a sort of amused smirk. "I... I would ask that you forgive him. Make him whole again. Bring him back into your Grace, Lord. As your servant and Apostle. I see so much good in him. He really is a .... a _good_ person, deep down." 

He hesitates and tries to put into words what he wants to say. He's asked for this thousands of times and each time, he finds it difficult, not wanting to offend Her and Her decision but wanting so badly to have his side, his version, heard. He pauses a length of time and waits to hear something. Anything. Feel something. Hear Her voice, feel Her presence. 

Nothing. 

It has occurred to him more than once that She may be angry with him for loving a demon. Perhaps not so much angry as _irritated_. Her beloved Principality that She gave the job of protecting Humankind sullied by a demon... the original Serpent of Eden of all things. She hasn't smite him yet. She can't be all _that_ angry or annoyed, he thinks. When God is angry, She makes it known. Hence the reason why Crowley is Fallen, along with so many others. 

Aziriphale had been nearby during that time and not seen so much as heard what had happened. He hadn't known Crowley then, though he knew of the Arch Angel Raphael who he now assumed to have been Crowley. Heaven was filled with billions of Angels and being a Principality, one of Her chosen, he didn't deign to get involved in the micromanagement of lower ranking Angels. He'd only ever heard the name Raphael a handful of times but never had he met him, nor Lucifer nor any of them really. He knew that Raphael and some others were building something for the Almighty. Something _celestial_ , they called it. Something _infinite_. Though intrigued, he had his own job to do as all Angels did and couldn't be concerned or involved in every aspect and detail in the building of all the Universes. He had his hands full with these new developments called Humans. Just the two of them right now, of course. An experiment of which She was still working out the details. Her latest pet project that he had some direct involvement with under her watchful eye. 

The day it happened, there had been a terrible disruption in the Heavens. A movement, a quake,... and then screams. He heard screams and felt a heat rise up beneath him. It didn't last long, as he remembered it. He'd never before heard screams and was confused by it at first, thinking it was singing. Harmonies that were distorted. Something about the sounds though, didn't hit his ear right. He came to know later that it was pain. It was the sounds of pain which until then, hadn't existed. 

There was a gathering of Angels, nearly all of them, as he approached and joined them, their gazes down, he felt what he now knows to be heat. An energy rose up from where the Angels looked that was not all together comforting but warm none the less. There was darkness there, where they watched so many Angels falling, screaming, burning. There was a faint scent emitting from that place, something of which they'd never experienced before.

If Aziraphale had to describe it then, he wouldn't have had the words or ideas for it, but now, having existed for millions of years, having lived on Earth for some 6,000 years, he knew exactly how to describe it. What he witnessed that time was an inferno. The sense that he experienced was smell,- of smoke, burning, the devouring of a celestial being, the smoke of singed wings, of something melting in a burn so hot it threw it's heat back up to the heavens. The heat and stench dissipated but they all knew, they all sensed that the burning and suffering continued somewhere below. Hell had been invented then and it's new inhabitants. 

Aziraphale had heard whispers before that time, of Angels that gathered, questions on their minds of what the Almighty had developed, _was_ developing. Some of them had their misgivings and questioned but it was only a handful out of billions. Nothing that was concerning to one such as he. He followed the rules, did his job without query. Even afterward, he didn't question what had happened. The Almighty knew best and She in her infinite wisdom would not do anything that wouldn't benefit her beloved creations. There must have been a reason, he decided. Best not to ask why. 

"I'm sure he didn't mean for it to happen." Aziraphale continued. "I've... I've spoken with him several times on the matter and it's ...uh.. it's my interpretation, my Lord, that he may have just been in the wrong place and the wrong time, as it were." he says with some trepidation, a slight wavering in his voice. He choses his words carefully as to not insult Her. Not insinuate that She got it wrong. "His mistake, you see. Just ... hanging around the wrong crowd, I believe." 

He pauses again for any indication of being listened to. 

Nothing. 

"Well, " he says with a breathy sigh, feeling the need to change the subject for now, "In other news... all good here... nothing major to report. I'm sure Gabriel or Michael will inform me of anything in need of attention but ... I'll be everso diligent as always, Lord, in meeting the requirements of what needs to be done. So, until later, then..." he says with a lilt of his voice. "Amen." 

He rises from the floor near his bed where he knelt and brushes the nonexistent dust from his trousers, checks his buttons on his waistcoat, a nervous habit, straightens his bowtie and turns to leave the small bedroom above the bookshop. He considers opening the shop for a moment but has a better idea. 

"I thought possibly we could meet for brunch, that is, if you're not busy." he says with a smile on his lips into the receiver of the landline phone. 

"Ssure Angel... what ever you want." he hears from the other end of the line. "Pick you up?"

Of course he's having crepes. The Ritz, as of late, has some delightful choices and he's on his second, managing to get Crowley to try a bite. 

"You know I don't have much of a sweet tooth, Angel." he mutters around the mouthful of crepe. He nods, "S'good though." 

"Another?" Aziriphale asks, holding a bit larger bite of it on his fork out to the demon sitting close to him. 

"Nah. You enjoy it." and takes a sip of his espresso. 

There's a comfortable silence between them, developed over thousands of years of friendship, fraternizing, amicability, fondness and intimacy. No need for words, though they do love to use them, even still, so much to talk about. The world around them changes so drastically and so quickly, they're never at a loss of topics. 

This topic though, is one Crowley isn't so keen on. He knows what Aziraphale does, _tries_ to do, and he knows it's a lost cause. He's resigned to it. He's carried that pain of rejection and banishment for so long, it's part of him, part of who he is. It's become less like a scab and more like a birthmark that he doesn't even notice anymore. 

"You shouldn't waste your time." he finally says, softly, between sips of espresso. "There are better, .. much better things to focus your prayers on, Angel. Don't throw them away or risk Her ostracizing you for the sake of praying for lost causes." 

Aziraphale puts down his fork and brings his napkin to his lips and dabs them gently. "I don't see it as a lost cause." he says resolutely. "You're worth my prayers." He keeps eye contact with Crowley, or as close as he can what with the dark lenses between their gazes. 

Crowley makes a muffled sound, a sigh, a grunt and a slight shrug of shoulder. He is uncomfortable when this comes up and makes it known. "She's not listening." he says in what is nearly a whisper. The End of the World was thwarted and he and the Angel are still here so that either means that it was all part of the Great Plan to begin with, or She just doesn't care anymore. She's not listening anymore. Maybe She doesn't exist anymore, though he thinks that the very fact that Angels and Demons still perform miracles is proof that She is probably still there... somewhere. He's not sure. One thing he is sure of, though, is that his name falls on deaf ears. He's sure that when Aziraphale gets to the part of his prayers where his name is mentioned, she stops listening. Like a parent that just condescends to it's child's preoccupation with an imaginary friend. 

_Yes, dear, that's nice dear. What are you and your friend going to do today? You want an extra sandwich for your friend? Your friend said a funny joke today? That's nice dear, now run along. Tell your friend to be good._

Whether it was by accident or not, he fell from Her graces a long time ago and he really doesn't believe that he even exists to Her anymore. It used to make him angry. It still does if he lets himself think about it for too long, so he doesn't think about it. Tries not to. Sometimes it's hard when his best friend and soul mate is a constant reminder of what he's trying not to think of. 

"I'm not saying She's not listening to _you_... I'm saying She's tunes out when you mention _me_." he says, responding to Aziraphale' s very hurt look that makes Crowley want to curl up and chastise himself for every time he's ever been responsible for making him look that way. 

"I don't believe that." Aziraphale responds quickly, unflinching, and finishes his tea. "Shall we?" He snaps his fingers indicating that he's paid their bill including a generous gratuity and stands to leave. They had decided earlier that they'd go for a walk, it being such a clear and lovely day. 

They're walk lasted throughout the afternoon. They stopped for ice cream in the park at nearly tea time, then a matinee, a leisurely stroll back to the Savoy for dinner and drinks followed by a tipsy, moonlit, handholding walk back to Crowley's flat which was closer. They left the Bentley at the Ritz, being miraculously unnoticed by any street level law enforcement, or anyone else for that matter. 

"Stay?" Crowley whispered against the shell of the Angel's ear, having backed him against the hallway wall after shutting the front door behind them. His glasses removed with one hand and discarded on a nearby table haphazardly. His hands were roaming slowly over the Angel's waist, up his back, down his arms and back up again to cup his face and draw him into an unchaste kiss. 

Aziraphale danced this dance with Crowley so often it was like breathing, not having to even think about it. Kissing him now, since the Armageddon that didn't happen, was as easy as blinking an eye. The restrictions they had before no longer existed. They'd been so careful, for so long, and now they could love without worry. Touch without hesitation or hiding. If She was against it, She certainly didn't make it known to them. If She hadn't known about the intimacy that had developed between them over the last 4,000 years or more, then She must know of it now and had made no indication that She wasn't pleased about it. It was love, after all. Wasn't that was She was made of? Is that not what She wanted for all? She had never denied any kind of love. It was the humans that created that. The humans that created their own version of Her Word. Twisted it and shaped it to meet their needs and demands for their own times. 

If She wasn't pleased with the relationship that had developed between one of her Angels and one of the Fallen, she certainly didn't make it known. 

Or did she? 

For a moment, a thought rose up like bile in Aziraphale' s mind. Was She quiet because She was Angry with him? Angry for betraying Her by loving one of the Fallen? When was the last time She spoke to him? His mind raced. 

The Garden. 

His heartbeat quickened. Crowley could feel his pulse and smiled against his neck, nipping him there, gently. "Angel..." he whined, still in awe that _he_ could create such a response from such a perfect and beautiful creature as Aziraphale. 

He lied to Her. 

He had lied to Her when She asked him pointedly about his flaming sword. 

_Of course_. Why had he never considered this before? 

He swallowed hard and his knees suddenly felt weak but not for the usual reason of his beloved tracing kisses over his face and neck and his hands roaming purposefully over his body. 

He stilled and Crowley couldn't help but notice the sudden frigidness. He ceased his kissing and caresses and pulled back to look at his Angel. "Wus' wrong?" he asked, brows knitting together in concern. 

Aziraphale' s mouth is suddenly very dry. "Eh... nothing." The lilt in his voice tells Crowley otherwise. 

"No... no... I know that look... something's wrong... what is it?" he states, backing away slowly. "Sumthin's up in that clever Angel-brain of yours... tell me. Did I do something, say something wrong?" 

"No, no, no... dear, .. not at all! I... I think you might have been right... earlier. I think...I think She might not be listening to me... anymore." he says, his voice weak and sounding breathless. He looks without focusing on Crowley's chest, lost in his own thoughts. Panic setting in that this might be true. 

Crowley rolls his eyes and moans his frustration. This again, Angel? he thinks. "Aziraphale... " he begins, his voice resolute and deep, "forget what I said. What do I know? You're an Angel... of course She listens to you... but She's not talking to anyone... is She? When's the last time...." 

"The Garden." Aziraphale says, cutting off his question. He looks up again to Crowley's eyes, golden and familiar, grounding him, again, as always. "The Garden... She asked me the whereabouts of my sword... _after_ , you see." 

"And?" the Demon asks urgently. 

"And... I lied." he says softly, weakly. "That is... I didn't tell Her what I did with it.... though now... I'm sure She already knew."

Crowley's mind scrambles to find something to say to comfort, to appease him. He knows where this is going and he needs to find something to say because he can't imagine that She stopped listening, stopped talking to and through one of Her most perfect creations because of one little mistruth. He won't even consider it to be a lie because can Angels even lie? Are they even capable of it? Some part of his mind tries to go back, back so far into his past when he was an Angel himself. Can he recall ever not telling the truth? He can't remember. He can remember very little, only glimpses of that life, like trying to recall a dream, he only gets bits and pieces of a puzzle that don't fit together. 

Then, he thinks of something. Some other possibility. He remembers that first day. The First Day, in the Garden. He remembers seeing the Angel on the East Wall of the Garden, looking out into the vast dessert as the first humans made their way out into the world. 

"Angel..." his voice nearly sounds choked, he swallows, and sees Aziraphale watching his throat as he does, "...was that.... before or after?" 

Aziraphale furrows his brows. "Before or after what?" He's still backed against the wall but on his own accord now. Crowley still close but not holding him there and a hand's length separate them now. He sees something he doesn't like in Crowley's face, in his eyes, something he recognizes as fear or worry. Over so many millennia they've come to recognize every little nuance of each others body language. He reaches between them and takes his hands into his own and just holds them there, gently, a gesture he does unthinkingly of comfort when Crowley looks this way. A natural reaction to comfort and ease his worry. 

"Before or after..... you spoke to _me_." he says slowly, carefully, as though the words themselves are linked to an explosive within him. Is _he_ the reason She doesn't talk to Aziraphale anymore? It's been 6,000 years and this hadn't occurred to him until now. 

Aziraphale is already shaking his head before the words leave Crowley's mouth. "No... no, of course not, love. No. If She hadn't been pleased about that, we both would have known immediately. She would have.... She... She would.... " 

"Incinerated me on the spot?" Crowley fills in, "Because _you_ didn't?" 

Aziraphale catches Crowley's arms in his hands now and holds him firm, possibly giving them a gentle shake as he speaks, " _NO_... of course not! Don't _say_ that! She would have made Her displeasure known to _me._.. She would have said so... and yes, it was after I spoke to you but ... that's the whole point. She _did_ speak to me afterward and the only thing She asked of me was about my sword. It was I that lied... it had nothing at all to do with you!" 

Crowley lets out a shaky breath, his mind still reeling at the possibility and Aziraphale can see that the wheels are still spinning behind those brilliant golden eyes. "Come.. come here .. shall I make some tea? Or would you prefer something stronger?" 

"Sstronger." he replies and shuffles after the Angel into his own barely used kitchen. 

"Go sit... start a nice fire, would you... I'll bring us drinks." He watches him retreat to the sparsely furnished parlor, a moment later, hears the fire in the hearth roar to life. 

He knows Crowley well enough to know that he won't let this idea go easily. He also knows it's not true. If the Almighty had a complaint that he spoke to the Serpent in the Garden, directly after he'd successfully tempted Her humans, she would have mentioned it over the last 6,000 years. At the very least it would have come up in the many meetings with Gabriel or Michael.

Minutes later, two glass tumblers in hand, one on the rocks, one straight of which he handed down to Crowley sprawled on the sofa. The Demon sat up a bit and took the glass, "Thanks." he muttered and made room for his dearest on the sofa beside him. 

Aziraphale took his place and smiled at him, lifting his glass to him, "What shall we drink to?" he asked, trying to sound more upbeat than he felt. 

Crowley shrugged and scowled for a second, unable to think of anything to say. 

"To prayers answered." Aziraphale filled in. 

"What prayers would those be, Angel?" 

"I prayed a long time ago.. _for_ a long time, ... for _this_. That we could ... _be_ this." He didn't have to explain any more than that. Crowley knew exactly what he meant. All the centuries spent hiding what they both wanted, from their superiors, and from eachother. Afraid to show anything more to eachother than an arrangement made between partners in a business sense. Afraid to show any sign of even that to their very opposing sides of management. 

Crowley clinked his glass with the Angel's gently and took a long pull from the glass. Aziraphale's hand was close, just beside him on the sofa, so he carefully threaded his fingers with it and squeezed it gently while gazing across the distance into the fire in the hearth. Aziraphale watched him with interest. Not just with worry, but in the way a lover looks at that which he loves. 

"I talked to Her, y'know." he finally said after a long silence and taking another pull from his glass that nearly emptied it. "After." 

Aziraphale looked at him with widened blue-grey eyes, a little surprised, a little worried. "You did?" 

"Yeah. Recently even." he answered without looking from his gaze on the fireplace. 

"Did.... did She..." 

"No." he huffed, the corner of one side of his mouth lifting in a half smirk. "Seriously? She won't talk to you.... do you think she'd talk to me? Hear me at all?" he said turning to look at the Angel now. 

Aziraphale wanted to ask but knew better. Prayers were a private thing, but it did surprise him that Crowley would even consider. He had to wonder though. Did he mock Her? Scream obscenities at Her? Beg Her? Plead with Her? Cry to Her? He wouldn't have blamed him if he had done all those things. He thinks he would have done the same... had it been him that was cast out. 

He turned his head and looked at him, squeezing his hand. "I _love_ you, Crowley." he said resolutely, as though wanting to make up for the lack of love he must feel, must _have_ felt, coming from the Almighty. "You _know_ that, don't you? I absolutely adore you." his eyes steadfast on the other being to his left. 

Crowley turned his head to look over at him now, bringing Aziraphale's hand up to his lips and kissing his knuckles. "I know, Angel." he said softly. "I know that." He wouldn't say aloud that he didn't deserve his love, that he didn't feel worthy of it, though it was how he felt. He was a demon, and he was greedy and he would take it whether he thought he deserved it or not. Just this. Just his love. That's all he would ever want or need or dare ask for. Aziraphale gave it so willingly, always had. From the moment he shielded him from the first drops of the first rain with his wing. Crowley never stopped taking that love. Never stopped wanting more of it. 

"Another?" he asked as he moved to stand and go to the kitchen with his empty glass. 

"No, no... I'm fine." Aziraphale watched as his hand slowly slid from other's. 

When Crowley returned to the room, glass filled, placing the bottle on the table before them in case Aziraphale changed his mind, the Angel waited til he was seated again. "Yes, I'll stay." he said in answer to a question from nearly twenty minutes ago. 

Crowley smirked, took a drink from his glass and leaned over to set it on the table in one fluid movement, not unlike a snake, maneuvered over to lay his head on the Angel's lap and spread his long legs the length of the sofa and let out a contented sigh. "I love you, Angel." he mumbled into his thigh. 

"I know. " he answered softly and lifted his glass out of the way so that he could run his fingertips through the soft strands of crimson in his lap. 

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable in the bed?" he asked before Crowley half the hour later, after he'd finished his drink and successfully combed Crowley's hair with his fingers. 

"Mmhmph. Heuutoo?" he muttered, half asleep.

"Of course. Come on then.. before you fall asleep. You're half way there already." 

Crowley groaned at the idea of moving but as comfortable as he was, he knew he'd be moreso in the bed, out of his clothes, with a warm angel pressed against him. 

By the time they were both undressed and in bed, Crowley suddenly wasn't so sleepy. The cold floor on his bare feet might have had something to do with it, but moreso, it was probably the soft, warm Angel in his bed clothed only now in his underthings. He curled his body around him, one arm slithering under the pillows beneath Aziraphale's head, one arm wrapped completely around his waist as well as one leg slung over his hip while the other leg stretched out the length of him pressing against the Angel's own. He nuzzled into his neck and ear with a long nose, kissing his earlobe and then cheek nearest his ear. He still couldn't get used to this being so easy. Where they used to have to take these liaisons in secret, wherever and whenever they could, they were now so free to do as they pleased. Neither of their respective "companies" breathing down their necks or watching their every move. Even if they were watching at this point, there was little they seemed willing to do about it if they didn't take kindly to a very intimate relationship happening between and Angel and a Demon. 

"Today was nice." Aziraphale said as he lay looking up at the ceiling high above them. "Did you enjoy yourself?" His arms entwined with Crowley's around his waist as he lay on his back, not ignoring the nuzzling and tempting coming from his partner beside him. 

"Mmhmm.." Crowley murmured against his neck. "very much. Did you?" 

"Oh yes... very much. It was lovely." 

He lay there silent as Crowley lazily placed kisses over his neck, ear and face, caresses over his body. After a while, he stopped, noticing that the Angel was making no moves to return the affection as he normally would. Pulling his hand out from underneath the pillow, he propped his head on his hand and gazed down at his partner in the dim light coming through the floor to ceiling windows from the crescent moon. 

"Angel. Wus wrong?" 

There was no sense in saying that nothing was wrong. Aziraphale knew as much. Crowley knew him too well and he'd only persevere until he got what he wanted out of him. He licked his lips, drew in a breath as though to say something but stopped, hesitated. 

"Angellll." he whined. "Please don't tell me this is what I think it is." 

Aziraphale's eyes darted to him and back to the ceiling and back again. "What?" 

"Oh please... I know what you're thinking. You think that I actually thought that I was going to get off that easy. I knew you wouldn't let this go that easily. So come on... out with it." 

"Well... it's just... " he began and stopped again. Taking another breath he started over from a different angle. "Well, you said that you've .... _talked_ to Her. You've prayed..." 

" _NOT_ prayed." the Demon interrupted. "Talked.... _at_ Her... not so much _to_ Her." 

"Well still... you talked. I just was thinking that... that maybe.... if _we_ talk to her... ask her..." 

Crowley tensed and began to pull away and sit up, "Oh no... no, no, no, no, no... " he blurted out rapidly. "WE aren't doing anything of the sort." He sat bolt upright in bed to Aziraphale's disappointment. "Angel... it doesn't matter... She's not listening to me or apparently to you... and if She is... and nothing's happened, then.. jus... let it be." he said tossing his hands up in a gesture of letting something go. "What are you looking for? Acceptance? A pat on the head to tell you everything's okay? Her _silence_ is acceptance.. don't you see? You're not Fallen and I'm not smited into a flaming pile of goo, so... issall good? yess?" 

Aziraphale sat up too, while Crowley spoke. He bowed his head a bit and fiddled with the sheets nervously. He hated getting Crowley so worked up that his lisp appeared, which it was coming out a little now, a left over from his serpent days he supposed. He'd find it endearing if only it didn't only happen when he was upset or overly concerned with something. 

"Forgiveness." he muttered lowly, his eyes then glancing up into Crowley's and back down again, knowing that the former Serpent's temper would flare at the very idea. 

Crowley shook his head in disbelief. "No, Angel." he returned weakly. "She won't _do_ that. Please... _please_ stop asking." His voice was pleading. He hated that Aziraphale needed this, wanted this, asked for it. He hated Her for not listening to him. It was one thing not to hear _him,_ he was a Demon afterall but for the sake of all that is love and holy and divine... why would She not listen to this perfect Angel? One of Her most perfect creations? Why did She ignore him? 

"Pray with me now... please?" Aziraphale tried, practically ignoring all that Crowley just said. He had to try. 

The mood significantly destroyed now, Crowley grunted, huffed and shimmied back down under the blankets of the bed, shifting to turn his back on Aziraphale. "G'night Angel." he muttered bitterly. 

"Crowley..." 

"Ngk." 

"Fine... " Aziraphale huffed and shoved the blankets off of himself and swung his legs over the edge of the too large bed.

Crowley lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at the sudden movement. "Where you going?" he chirped but then seeing the Angel go to his knees beside the bed, nearly disappearing and only now able to see him from the tops of his shoulders before he brought his arms up to rest on the mattress, threading his palms and fingers together, he rolled his eyes at him. "Your ridiculous." he muttered and burrowed himself further under the covers. It wasn't the first time Aziraphale had prayed in his flat so he wasn't as surprised as he had been the first time it happened. He couldn't bring himself to mind. If it made Aziraphale happy then he didn't protest. It wasn't as though he could really do anything about it anyway. His Angel could be a stubborn bastard. 

Tonight though, it was different. Aziraphale never spoke his prayers aloud before. Crowley pinched his eyes shut when he started to hear the first words, almost wanting to bring his fingers up to stick in his ears. He made a sound of displeasure but that was all. 

"Hello Lord... it's me, your Principality Aziraphale,..." 

Crowley's eyes rolled even being shut tight. _She knows who you are, Angel._

Aziraphale went through his usual run down of blessings for the world, routine stuff really. Things that even humans would generally pray for on a regular basis. Heal the sick, protect the unsheltered, feed the hungry, comfort the dying, ...etc.

"Once again, Lord... I ask that you would forgive the Demon Crowley..." 

"Uhg." Crowley grunted and shifted uncomfortably under the sheets, tightening them around himself. 

"...he's really quite an awful Demon anyway, Lord... and so good to me. He's kind and ever so considerate... always puts me first... " 

Crowley listens and freezes in his place under the covers. 

"...he's shown me such love... unlike even other angels have shown me. He's very special to me as you know by now and ... I'm sure he'd be an asset to you once again..." 

Crowley shifts again and lets out a loud sigh.

"...afterall he's been very helpful to me in the last several millennia. I would ask that you find a place for him again in your heart and in your divinity. He's so very worth it... I give you my word that he'd be as good an Angel as I... and perhaps even moreso than certain Arch Angels... " he clears his throat a bit, "of which I will not name." 

  
"Angel." Crowley growls lowly, unable to listen to much more. 

Ignoring him, Aziraphale continues,

"Please, Lord... I _love him_ with all my heart. I've loved him for so very long... since... well, since... that first day, though I admit I didnt' know that yet. But I do now. I know and have known for a very long time how much I truly love and adore him.... all I ask is that you no longer condemn him to the name of Demon. Please return him to his true nature.. and remove his pain and memories of ever having fallen. He shouldn't suffer, Lord. He's too good. He's ... _good_ , Lord." Aziraphale sighs a bit sadly. "Amen." 

Crowley feels wetness around his eyes and he wipes angrily at it. He's not sure if he's touched or angry or both. "Why is it so important to you?" he mutters in a low breath, without moving from his current nest of blankets. 

Aziraphale can barely hear him as he crawls back into the bed and situates himself again, laying on his back, hands folded over his chest. "What's that dear?" 

Crowley pushes the blankets down and turns slightly towards him. "Why? Why do you need me to be that again? If you love me... like thiss... then why do you need me to be ssomething else?" 

Aziraphale's brows raise in alarm and he turns towards him, rolling over onto his side to face him, propped up on an elbow. "Oh... no, dear.... it's not that I don't love you just as you are... you know I do... don't you?" 

"Then why? What doesss it matter now?" he hisses. 

"Because I only want you to be released from what happened to you. You remember so little of Heaven... so little of being an Angel... but you recall everything from after. You still remember the Fall... the burning, the pain you felt. The torment. I want you to be released from that. You deserve that, at the very least. It wasn't fair what happened to you..." 

"Fair?" he snaps. "What does Heaven know of fair? What's ever been fair about any of it?" He rolls onto his back now, his face twisted in anger and frustration. "When has Heaven ever shown fairness? Have you forgotten the last six thousand years? What we've endured watching what She let happen to them? The floods, the fires, the droughts? And that's just the tip of the iceberg..." he rants rapidly, his temper increasing. "..the wars... the continuous bloody fucking wars..." 

"Crowley... it's.." 

" _ **Don't!**_ Don't tell me it was all part of the great fucking plan, Angel... please don't tell me that again." 

Aziraphale's mouth snaps shut. He lies back down again. He can feel his heart beat rapidly in his chest. He thinks for a moment that he should leave but quickly decides against it. Crowley is angry but he's seen him much worse and this will pass. He'll be right as rain, tomorrow. _Tickity boo_. Best to just let him sleep this off tonight. Not mention anything more. "I wasn't going to say that." 

"Yess you were." he growls. 

"I just don't want you to think that I don't love you as you are. It's not true." 

"Then stop praying for a ridiculous miracle... _please_. It's enough for me that we're still here. Together." 

Aziraphale turns his head and smiles a tiny bit. "You're right." He reaches over and brushes his palm against his cheek and Crowley leans into the touch. "Come here." Lifting his arm and the blankets to welcome his love back into his arms, where he'd been tucked so snuggly earlier. Crowley complies, as he always does. He can't resist the warmth and softness of his Angel who kisses his forehead once he's near enough. 

The mood is too somber now for anything but sleep, but Crowley finds it quickly, encased in the embrace and warmth. Aziraphale lays beside him, watching the crescent moon move across the night sky of London, keeping time to the sound of Crowley's soft snores and breaths. He thinks that Crowley is right. They should just be grateful for what they now have. Thousands of years of hiding their feelings from Heaven and Hell and now they can just be in love, openly. He shouldn't ask for more than that. He thinks about Crowley talking to God and what he might say, what he might have already said. Would she even consider listening to him? Has she heard him at all? 

Before he knows it, the moon has disappeared from the window and the first promise of dawn exists on the horizon. Crowley stirs beside him and Aziraphale gives him a soft squeeze where his arm has been around him. Crowley makes a sound and pulls him closer where his arm is snuggly around the Angel's waist. His fingers begin to move, caress the pale flesh of the hip he has his palm wrapped around. 

"Angel... you sleep?" 

"No." he huffs, a smile on his lips as he tilts his head downward towards Crowley's. "It's very early yet... you can still sleep if you'd like." 

Crowley tilts his head up and tries to peel his eyes open a bit. "And if I don't wanna?" he asks, his hand smoothing down over the Angel's hip to his thigh. He shifts a bit and gently grinds himself against Azirphale's other thigh. 

The Angel smiles. "You tempter, you." 

"Is it working?" 

"Has it ever _not_? It _is_ your best demonic skill set, after all." 

"It's not worked _many_ times...over the years. I'd have had you in my bed that time in Rome if it _did_ work everytime... or if I'd _had_ a bed then." 

"Is that so?" he replies softly and turns over to face him, cupping his jaw. "That long ago? Really?" 

Crowley rolls his eyes, "Before that even, Angel." he sighs. 

...

Aziraphale wonders sometimes when it was obvious to Crowley that he loved him, pined for him. He wonders if there had been one particular moment, one instance where he knew for sure. For him, though he supposed he knew long before and had never really let himself recognize it, it was one time when they were at the Globe. Crowley looked especially fetching that day, and the way he looked at him made something in Aziraphale's corporeal body tingle and melt and tingle again. They'd met afterward for a drink and he couldn't take his eyes off the Demon. Their legs brushed under the table, their knees were pressed against one another's and the entire time they talked about the details of their "arrangement", Aziraphale could barely focus. He wanted to sink his fingers into that flaming mane and pull him across the table and kiss him. He remembers feeling flushed and embarrassed at the thought of it. He remembers Crowley asking him if he was well? _"You look... I dunno.. woozy. You okay?"_

_"Fine.. yes.. just tickityboo. Just the mead is quite strong, I think."_

_"I have a nice red back at my place... if you'd prefer. I got it right off the ship from Venice._

_"Oh.. no... this is fine. I don't think that would be... well, this is fine. I should be going."_

Crowley was right. His temptations didn't always work on him. 

...

"Well, I dare say your temptations work just fine on me now." he says softly into the still dark room. 

"I can tell." the Demon says with a smirk that Aziraphale can hear in his voice. Their kiss starts slowly until they're both pulling at eachother's hips and backsides to find more friction, grinding against one another. 

An hour later, they're both panting and sprawled out on the bed, sheets in a mess at their feet, under garments scattered over the floor beneath them kicked away haphazardly. 

"Wher'you going?" Crowley mutters, reaching a hand out to catch the Angel's wrist. 

"I was going to go make some tea... it's nearly dawn. I was going to go watch the sunrise. You can come." 

"I already did..." he smirks, 

"That's not what I meant and you know it." he smiles and chastises his love,

"and no... it's still night time. Stay in bed." he mutters, his face half buried in the pillow. 

Aziraphale leans back over and kisses his cheek. "You stay, sleepy demon. I'll draw you a bath for when you decide to get up and bring you a cup." 

"Nnnnnnn..." comes the whine from the pillow. Aziraphale does stay a few moments longer at least, until Crowley is snoring softly again. He covers him with a blanket, tucks it around his shoulders and kisses his temple. 

Aziraphale, wrapped in a robe that he keeps at Crowley's, takes his tea out onto the small balcony of the flat. The sun is just starting it ascent into London. He takes a sip, sighs and looks out over the still darkened city streets and remembers a time when there were less buildings, less streets and less people, yet it somehow still seems so much the same in many ways. He looks up to the heavens. Crowley's stars starting to dim in the rising light but he can still see them there. 

A few minutes go by, he realizes that the sun is in it's same position. A few more minutes elapse and still no change. It's as if he just walked out onto the balcony but he knows several minutes have passed. Is he dreaming? Did he fall asleep back in the bed when Crowley asked him to stay? He's becoming more concerned and about to go back inside when he hears it. 

"Aziraphale." 

The voice is soft and distant at first. Almost as though it was a sound caught on the wind and taken away as quickly. He stops and listens, straining to hear it again. 

"Aziraphale." 

This time there's no mistaking it. He hears it. The voice very familiar and at the same time one that he'd not heard in six thousand years. 

"Lord?" 

"Yes, Aziraphale." 

"Oh!" he gasps, and pulls his robe around him tighter. "OH... hello. .I-I'm sorry for... for my appearance." he blurts out and thinks to miracle himself into his proper clothing for a moment before..

"It's quite alright... it's early yet. It will stay early for a few more minutes anyway." She states, excusing him from changing his appearance. 

There's a pause, Aziraphale puts down his tea on the ledge of the balcony and wrings his hands. He's not sure what to start by saying but he doesn't need to. He's filled with a Presence that he knows well, though he's not felt it this strongly in thousands of years. The Presence brings him peace and he suddenly feels no anxiety or loss of words. 

"I"m sorry I lied... I'm so sorry..." he begins to say. 

"It's fine...You were right, I already knew what you'd done with your Sword... it was a while ago and I'm not here about that anyway." 

"Oh... oh thank you... " 

"You've been persistent, Aziraphale." 

He's not quite sure if he should apologize or if She's complimenting him. 

"Yes, Lord." 

"Is this what you really want? Raphael restored to his Divine form?" 

So it _was_ true. Crowley _had_ been the Arch Angel Raphael. 

"If it pleases you, Lord... I would be most grateful, yes." Aziraphale is breathless with excitement, still not sure if he's not dreaming all this. He could very well be fast asleep, back in Crowley's bed, the wiley demon wrapped around him. 

"What would please me is that you're happy, Aziraphale. Are you happy, as things are? For I have to warn you that should I reverse what the Demon Crowley is now, it will change everything." 

His face falls a bit and he ponders this. " _Everything_?" he repeats. 

"Yes, Aziraphale. He never knew you in Heaven. He still won't know you now. All of what's happened to him in his present form will be erased. He won't remember the Fall, he won't remember Hell. He won't remember anything that's happened since before that time. " She leaves a pregnant pause to let him absorb that. "He won't remember _you_ , Aziraphale." 

His head swims for a moment. The last six thousand years race like motion picture through his mind. The Garden, the wall, Rome, The Globe, the park, the wars, the Arrangement, the drunken nights, the dinners, lunches, brunches, too fast car rides, hours long chats, picnics, promises, laughter, tears, flirtations, acknowledgements, confessions, firsts. First hand holding, first embraces, first kisses, first nights of ecstasy that knew no boundaries, pleasures he'd never conceived possible. Closeness, friendship. Not just any friendship but the _first_ friendship. He'd never even considered that theirs' was the very first friendship... that between and Angel and a Demon was the invention of _friendship_. 

"Lord... I'm.... I'm so grateful. I really am. Thank you speaking with me... but, might I have just a little time to..." 

"Of course Aziraphale. Take time to think this through. I will not erase all the bad and leave only the good. Know that if he comes back to us... he may not be yours. Then again, he may be. I cannot deny that you have a strong bond but remember how that bond was formed." She tells him gently, like a parent, because that's what She is to him. 

"Can I speak to him about this? May I tell him that you spoke to me?" he asks. 

She makes a sound that might be interpreted as a chuckle, he's not sure. 

"He won't believe you. Part of you knows that already, ... but, you may tell him. " 

He smiles his most worried smile, still grateful and overwhelmed that She speaks to him as though there hadn't been a long lapse between times they'd last spoken. "Thank you." he whispers and at once he can feel the Presence diminish , back to it's more tangible form. What it's always been within him. 

Time starts again and the sun rises but he hasn't moved from where he stands for over two hours. He's shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of Crowley's voice, behind him. 

"Oi... Angel." he repeats, sounding slightly annoyed. "Where are you?"

"What' s that?" he asked, surprised and turns to see a freshly woken, disheveled Demon gazing out at him from the doorway of the balcony. 

"I _said_ , Good morning. _Then_ I said, I thought we were having tea and a bath. _Then_ I said , Oi Angel, ... where are you?" 

"OH! Sorry..." 

"So? Where were you?" 

"What do you mean.. I'm right here." 

"In thoughts... you were a gazillion miles away..." he pads out onto the balcony and idles up behind him and looks out over the city below. 

"Yes... perhaps." he answers, still a little distant. He turns to look at Crowley's profile, sunlit, golden eyes, blazing red hair made moreso by the sun. Beautiful. What color were his eyes when he was an Angel, he thinks, because right now, he can't see anything other than an Angel before him. "Yes.. tea then..." he says, picking up his cup that has since gone quite cold. "I'll brew some fresh for us both. You draw a bath, will you? We should get a wiggle on.... we have that appointment with the realtor today in South Downs, you recall." 

"Right.. bout that... " Crowley begins, his lips turning to a frown, "Angel... are you sure? I mean... you really want me around all the time?" 

Aziraphale looks as though he'd been slapped. "Of course I do! I've never been so sure of anything, dear. Are _you_ not sure? If you dont want to live together, we can continue as we are... I don't mind that either." 

_"No, no, no_... I do... I want to ... _very_ much. If it were up to me, we'd been doing it a long time already now." 

"Then it's decided... we'll get the cottage. Just need to meet with Ms. Delbridge to sign the papers." he announces and gives the demon a peck on the cheek and goes back inside to brew tea. 

Aziraphale has packed a picnic for them which sits in basket on the back seat floor of the Bentley. The drive is nearly an hour, even with the way Crowley drives. There's a comfortable silence between them for some time as Aziraphale tries to think of the best way to bring up the topic that he's sure will not be well received by the Demon. He's been mulling over what God had said to him all morning while he made breakfast, packed their lunch, even while bathing though it was made much more difficult with Crowley in the tub with him, distracting him. He still hadn't made a decision. It didn't feel as though it was entirely his decision to make anyway. As much as he didn't want to lose Crowley, he would at least be free from the traumas he'd suffered from the Fall and he wouldn't carry any of the guilt of what he'd done the past six thousand years as a Demon. Of course he feared that Crowley would no longer remember him either and perhaps not even love him, or even grow to love him again. There was the chance that Crowley would just be assigned back to Heaven and he'd never even have a chance to see him again. The very idea made his stomach sink, his heart shatter. He did love him so... but it was selfish of him to love him without at least giving Crowley the chance to be forgiven and forget all his pains. 

"Lovely today... the weather, I mean." 

"Yeah." 

A long pause. Aziraphale wrings his hand in his lap. Crowley can't help but notice. 

"What's up, Angel?" he asks lowly, eye him suspiciously from the corner of his eye. 

Aziraphale looks over at him, feigning bemusement and innocence. "Up? Why should anything be up?" 

Crowley sighs. He'll have to play this game to get whatever it is out of the Angel that he's not telling him. He's used to it. He doesn't mind. It's a long drive anyway. "Aziraphale... how long have we known eachother?" he asks rhetorically. "You think for one minute I can't tell when you're up to something or have something on your mind? You practically wear it on your lapel!"

"Oh... well, yes, I suppose there is something I wanted to talk to you about,... now that you mention it." 

Well, that wasn't so hard, Crowley thinks. "Okay... so?" he says a little impatiently. 

"Well, I thought we'd talk about it over our picnic... " since that's when Crowley would have a glass of wine or three and be a bit more relaxed, perhaps even get him to eat something more than a few bites of something, "but if you really want to talk about it now...." 

" _Yes_ , Angel... spit it out." 

Aziraphale inhales, looking straight ahead. "Maybe you should slow down just a smidge." he requests. 

Crowley furrows his brow and takes his eyes off the road for a moment, "I'm only going 60." but he takes his foot off the accelerator, just a smidge to appease him. "Out with it, Angel." he demands. 

"Right... yes, well,... you know those prayers I've been ..."  


"Yess.... " he interrupts. 

"Well,...good news! It seems that She's been listening afterall." 

Crowley's head whips around and his brows raise far over his glasses to look at him so fast it startles the Angel. "She... She answered you?" he says in a hushed voice. 

Aziraphale can feel the car slow down even further and glances at the speedometer that now reads 50, and he nods. "Yes.. She has in fact. Crowley.. _watch the road._ I really think this is a better conversation for when you're not driving." 

"And?" he interjects without acknowledging what he's suggested. 

"Well... " he continues, a little more guarded, "She is not angry with me... _or you_.. it seems. So.. there's that." 

"AND?" 

"And She's not displeased with .... with..." he raises his hand to motion between the two of them, " _this._.. with _us._ " 

"Shesnot?"

"No... quite the contrary. She said we have a... _bond_ , I believe she called it." 

"Uh-huh..... wot else?" 

Aziraphale takes a deep breath hoping to use the extra second to think of what to say next. "She... told me... that.... " he sighs, exasperated again, "Oh look... I really can't talk to you about this like this. Can we please wait until later?" 

"So there's more? There's something bad... I can feel it." he says with his top lip curled. 

"No.. not bad really... not bad at all... just I'd prefer to have a proper discussion over some nice wine and watercress sandwiches." 

"Watercress?" Crowley repeats. 

"Yes.. doesn't that sound lovely?" 

Crowley's stomach churns and not because he doesn't care for wine or watercress sandwiches. Something doesn't sit right. If it were all good, the Angel would be bursting at the seams to tell him. 

"You can't just tell me something like that and then not say anything more...." 

"Well it was you that insisted I start telling you. We could pull over but... we'll be late for our meeting to sign the papers." he explains. 

Crowley grunts and moans his disapproval. "Fine..." he shakes his head. "..fine." 

He acts out of sorts the rest of the morning. Something doesn't feel right and he can't put his finger on it. He rushes through the final tour of the cottage, he rushes them through the paperwork which turns out take much longer than he thought it would. Aziraphale apologizes no less than three times for his partner's behavior whenever he's with Ms. Delbridge and out of earshot of Crowley. 

With papers of ownership finally signed, keys handed over and new ownership intact, Aziraphale waves good bye cheerily to Ms. Delbridge as she pulls away. He turns to Crowley with a smile that can put the sun to shame for it's beauty. "There now. All ours." he exclaims and puts his arms out to embrace the other. Crowley wraps his arms around him firmly and holds him tight. 

"Thank you, Angel." he murmurs into his ear. 

Aziraphale doesn't pull away but only answers softly, "For what exactly?" 

"For everything." Crowley replies, kissing the shell of his ear, breathing in the scent of Aziraphale's hair, cologne, skin... him. "For putting up with me. For ... letting me be with you, like this. For.... loving me so much." 

Aziraphale could cry then. He doesn't. He slowly pulls away and looks Crowley in the eyes, reaching up to pull the glasses away from his face gently. "I do, you know. I love you so very much." 

Crowley nods. "I love you... very much, Angel." 

Aziraphale takes his hand, "Come.. let's go get lunch ready in our garden." he smiles. "Our Garden. How about that? We have garden." he says excitedly. 

"And a cottage... a whole cottage for you to fill with books." he smirks. 

Crowley busies himself around the inside of their home while Aziraphale puts the final touches on their lunch in the back garden. It's nearly fully furnished but he knows the Angel will want to change much of it. He finds himself upstairs in the bedroom, sits on the bed and test bounces it a few times. "Should do." he mutters to himself. Opens the closet, finding it rather musty and snaps his fingers to clear it of dust and old smells. He does the same with everything in the bedroom but then opens the windows to let in the fresh air from the back garden. Right away he smells the peonies and hydrangeas that grow around the back of the cottage. He leans out the window a bit to see Aziraphale setting out their picnic on a tartan blanket on the grass. 

"Oi!" he yells down to him. "Cleaned the bedroom." 

"Oh! Very good. Come down her now... lunch is ready." he shouts back happily. 

Crowley joins him, opening a bottle of wine and pouring two glasses right away. 

"To us and our new home?" he asks with glass raised.

"To us... and our new home." Aziraphale repeats and leans in to kiss his lips chastely before the tink their glasses together and sip. 

" _Now_." Crowley begins before Aziraphale has a chance to do anything more, "Tell me. " 

"Let me cut you a sandwich." 

"Angel.. _out with it_... I've been patient all this time..." 

"If you call rushing Ms. Delbridge and fidgeting constantly since we arrived, being _patient._

"I do.. now tell me what's going on." he insists. 

"Very well." Aziraphale begins and takes a deep breath. "As I said... She spoke with me... just this morning." 

"When?" 

"After I left you to go make tea and let you sleep. I was watching the sunrise....and she just... _talked_ to me." 

"What did She say... about us?" he asked anxiously. 

"I told you. She said that we have a bond." He pauses and looks a little worried. "She has offered to..... to answer my prayers." he tells him slowly, watching Crowley's face. 

"What parts?" 

"The part where I have asked for .... well, for... for you to be forgiven." he nearly whispers. 

Crowley's face falls, his mouth agape. He nearly drops his wine glass. "She did not." he finally states. 

"She did. She will reverse the Fall. You'd ... you'd be an Angel, again, Crowley." He watches Crowley's eyes and for the first time thinks he can't imagine them any other way. He loves those eyes. He's used to those eyes. If he goes back to being Divine again, his beautiful, perfect eyes will change. "Raphael, she calls you." he says very softly. 

Crowley is frozen on the spot, unmoving. Aziraphale takes his glass before he can drop it and puts it beside his. 

"Crowley?" he touches his hand. "Do you remember that... do you remember your Angelic name?" 

Crowley closes his eyes, lips still parted, doesn't breath, not that he needs to. "I... think .... I think so. Something ... " he tries to recall but it's like trying to remember a dream from so long ago. Bits and pieces that he's not even sure are real or made up by his imagination. "She..... She would do that?" 

"Yes." Aziraphale tries to smile. 

"But... but there's something else, isn't there?" 

Azirphale's smile fades. "Yes... there is. She made it quite clear, " he begins, looking down at their hands where they're joined, "that you would be released of all your memories of the Fall... of being a Demon.. of everything. You'd remember none of that since before your Fall." he explains, hoping that he needs to say no more and that Crowley can understand the rest of it because he doesn't want to say it out loud. He doesn't want to say anything more than just that. 

"Everything?" Crowley's mind races through the last six thousand years over the next few minutes. He remembers the Fall all too well. Pain like that isn't forgotten... not even in thousands of years. He recalls so little just before that but he does remember how it happened. He remembers that he'd never meant to go along with whatever ridiculous plans Lucifer was making. He didn't even believe that it would have gone as far as it did. 

"If not me... then who?" he finally says and it's not what Aziraphale was hoping to hear. 

"What do you mean, dear?" 

"If I'd not been there to tempt them in the Garden, then who would have? It would change everything then?" 

Aziraphale is at a loss. "Well... I'm not sure exactly. Perhaps you'd be replaced in time by another Demon." 

He nods but his mind still races, he still tries to comprehend all of it. "Then I wouldn't have been there... in the Garden?" 

Aziraphale shuts his eyes for a moment, "No... you wouldn't. " and he hopes that Crowley is coming around to the answer. 

"Then... I wouldn't have met you." he says and it's not a question. His eyes dart back up to meet the Angel's. "I wouldn't know you." 

Aziraphale's eyes are starting to well. "No, dear." he whispers. 

"That's it then... that's the catch." he says as though he's just figured out a riddle. "I'm forgiven... I'm relieved of all that but... I won't remember you either. I never would have known you. Someone else wou...." he stops and almost chokes on the words. 

"But... we might." Aziraphale begins, his face showing feigned optimism, "We might meet again as Angels. I would remember you.... I think anyway... and I could.." 

"No. You wouldn't because this would have never existed. We would have never met and ... there would be nothing to remember." he says working out the puzzle now. 

Aziraphale knows he's right. He hadn't thought of that yet but he knows he's entirely correct. There would be no going back to Heaven or checking in on the Arch Angel Raphael because he wouldn't even know to do so. There might be a chance meeting on one of his assignments reporting back to Heaven but he doesn't even need to report back to Heaven these days. His entire position on Earth is to continue to perform small miracles, help where he can, not interfere where he shouldn't and inspire kindness and goodness. There would be little to no chance he'd ever meet the Arch Angel Raphael. It makes his stomach twist into a knot. 

"I"m not doing that." Crowley huffs. "I'm not going back.... not if I'll never know you." 

Aziraphale can barely hide the joy that fills him at hearing it. Still, he knows it's selfish of him. 

"But... you can be released of all the pain you ever felt, completely redeemed. I would be so relieved and happy for you, Crowley." 

Crowley stares at him with confusion. "Do you want me to.... do you want me gone?" 

Aziraphale's brows raise in horror, "OH.. oh NO! Of course I don't! That's not what I mean at all darling!" He squeezes Crowley's hands in his own. He'd be devastated to no longer have Crowley with him but honestly, he hadn't thought of the possibility that he wouldn't remember him since if time had been reversed, he'd never have known him. He hadn't thought to ask Her that. 

"So... I'd be an Angel... you'd be an Angel... but the chance of us meeting would be infinitesimally low... and if we did, we wouldn't know one another at all." Crowley tries to reason. 

"It would appear that way yes... but... say we did meet... and perhaps we'd... we'd fall in love again." 

"That's a huge IF, Angel. It's taken six thousand years... to... to...." 

Aziraphale purses his lips and looks down at their hands. "I know." he answers, understanding what Crowley means before he says it. 

"I dont' want to lose you... even if it means I won't know that I lost you." Crowley states, emphatically shaking his head. "Angel... I've been kinda smitten with you since day one. As in .. Day One. If I have to retain all my memories, good or bad, is'fine... 'slong as I don't lose the memories of you." 

Aziraphale swallows. He's so overwhelmed with emotion he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. So he does both. 

"Oh, Crowley.. I just wanted for you to be forgiven and not have any painful memories." 

"But I have more good memories now than bad ones... and thas' cause of you, .. and we'll keep making more now. Look at this." he says tilting his head back at the cottage and looks around the garden they're sitting in. "This is ours now... and I'm not going anywhere. We can keep making six thousand more years of memories here... or wherever we are... together. "

"Oh, Crowley." Aziraphale says though happy tears. 

He reaches a hand up to his face and with his thumb brushes away the tears. Aziraphale does the same to him and he just notices then that he too has been crying. 

"Can we stay here tonight?" 

"What? Without any books?" 

"I can make it through one night without a book.... if I have other things to occupy me." he smiles. 

"I cleaned up the bedroom... s'nice bed. Drapes need to go, though." 

Aziraphale grins and Crowley's heart sings with joy at seeing that smile on his Angels' lips that he saw that first day in the Garden and knows, that he'd never want this to be any other way. He'd Fall a thousand more times, for _him_. 


End file.
